I shall
know then that--that it is at least sincere."
Mr. Vincent rose to his feet.
"A little table just here, Lady Laura, if you please, and a pencil and
paper.... Will you kindly take your seats...? Yes, Mr. Baxter, draw up
your chair ... here. Now, please, we must have complete silence, and,
so far as possible, silence of thought."
II
The table, a small, round rosewood one, stood, bare of any cloth, upon
the hearthrug. The two ladies sat, motionless statues once more, upon
the side furthest from the fire, with their hands resting lightly upon
the surface. Laurie sat on one side and the medium on the other. Mr.
Vincent had received his paper and pencil almost immediately, and now
sat resting his right hand with the pencil upon the paper as if to
write, his left hand upon his knee as he sat, turned away slightly
from the center.
Laurie looked at him closely....
And now he began to be aware of a certain quite indefinable change in
the face at which he looked. The eyes were open--no, it was not in
them that the change lay, nor in the lines about the mouth, so far as
he could see them, nor in any detail, anywhere. Neither was it the
face of a dreamer or a sleepwalker, or of the dead, when the lines
disappear and life retires.
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